


Godless, Not Faithless

by angstony



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Choose Your Own Ending, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, POV Tony Stark, Pining Tony Stark, Tony Pines A Lot, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Two Endings, Unhappy Ending, Who Said Tony Couldn't Be Poetic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstony/pseuds/angstony
Summary: Yes, when it comes to self-destructive tendencies, no one is better at it than Anthony Edward Stark. Frankly, it might as well have been his middle name or another alias, like the Invincible Iron Man.Yes, he thinks, his gaze trained on the backside of a certain blond man punching away at a reinforced sandbag. When it comes to self-destructive tendencies, he is absolutely the number one man to go to.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to resurrectedhippo in the pots discord server for beta reading! **this story also has two endings.** one is heart-wrenching angst and the other is a fluffy happy ending! proper warnings will be implemented before the beginning of each ending, please heed them before reading. thank you!

Yes, when it comes to self-destructive tendencies, no one is better at it than Anthony Edward Stark. Frankly, it might as well have been his middle name or another alias, like the Invincible Iron Man.

Yes, he thinks, his gaze trained on the backside of a certain blond man punching away at a reinforced sandbag. When it comes to self-destructive tendencies, he is absolutely the number one man to go to.

He watches. It’s all he ever does anymore.

Tony watches as the man subjected to his gaze remains oblivious to it, solid thumps resounding each time his taped hands make contact with the bag. He watches as Steve ducks his head low, azure eyes focused intently on one thing and one thing only, intense, unrelenting, and rapid. Steve’s hair gleams in the light, like spun gold, and Tony wonders quietly if it’s really fair for someone to be so… Perfect.

Strong brows furrow in concentration, his full lips as soft and as colored as pink rose petals that part as he breathes in and out, his broad shoulders hunched and chest heaving. He clenches his teeth, showing a chiseled jawline that would make Adonis weep. Steve moves faster, almost a blur, pushing, straining, and Tony knows that he won’t stop until he’s at the brink of breaking.

It’s moments like these that Tony is in awe. Steve Rogers is a force to be reckoned with, unstoppable and unending. He is, simply put, a force of nature.

When Steve finally stops, he’s breathing even harder. He leans forward with his eyes closed, hands on either side of the punching bag to support himself, sweat soaking his shirt and causing the thin fabric to stick to his body. Tony’s eyes flicker down from Steve’s nose to his chin, down the line of his throat, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. His throat is probably dry after that rapid session. 

Tony’s eyes move on to sweep over Steve's collarbone over to the strong shoulders, tracing over the curve of his biceps and muscled forearms to large hands. Steve has an artist's hands. Steady and poised, his fingers are long and slender. It always catches Tony off guard.

His waist is a lot more trim than people think. For a brief moment, Tony wonders if his fingertips will almost reach if he wraps his hands around that waist. He banishes the thought before it affects him more than he’ll ever be willing to admit. Steve is a coiled spring, full of smooth power and sinuous grace. His hips are wider than one would suspect, and pardon Tony’s crass observance, but someone could bounce quarters off Steve’s ass. Tony isn’t sure he’s seen anyone with an ass as glorious as Steve’s, and he wonders again if it’s legal to be so perfect.

Steve has long legs. The first time Tony noticed was when he watched Steve outrun Sam and Rhodey one day, laughter bright in his eyes and lips. His thighs are filled out, and it’s no wonder that every bit of his body is hard and muscled. The peak of human perfection, like Aphrodite herself has blessed him. There’s no other way to put it. He’s like… He’s like Apollo. Tony starts for a moment at his own mind but then smiles ruefully at how true that is.

The god of the sun and light. The god of medicine, and healing. The god of pestilence and plague. The god of prophecy and truth. Every time he smiles or laughs, it makes him feel warm like the sun has dappled itself over his skin. Sometimes, it’s more than he can take, especially when his smiles or laughs are directed towards Tony, and suddenly, things aren’t so dreary anymore. Those times, it makes something inside Tony swell so much he can’t breathe for a long moment or two, heat ravaging his body to the point where it was almost painful. 

_The god of light and the sun._

There are times when they make contact. Perhaps a warm hand on Steve’s arm or on Tony’s shoulder, fingertips brushing against each other, and sometimes, palm against palm when they share a rare high-five. Other times, it’s when Tony’s trying to take measurements to tailor his suit to him perfectly. It makes Tony feel as if… As if he’s not as broken a man as he is. It makes him feel whole.

They haven’t touched much but for very brief instances in a while, not since… Not since that one day in the lab when his body had complained of his constant activity and lack of sleep that he’d been ignoring. Tony took Steve’s hand and trailed his fingers down his forearm to his hand, trying to think nothing of it, inspecting his fingers for his gloves, murmuring numbers and calculations to himself in a low voice that Steve had mistaken for something Tony had wanted him to know. Steve had bent down closer to listen because Tony was hunched lower than usual. Tony had looked up at exactly the wrong (or right) moment and their lips had almost met, a mere inch apart, eyes meeting and holding. Steve’s hand had been suddenly very warm in his own, the mesmerizing blue of his eyes drawing Tony in deep. He’d never stood a chance.

Warmth had spread through his entire body, and suddenly, it had been like he was taking a breath after a long time underwater. Steve had breathed out softly, reaching his hand up to brush over Tony’s cheek. The contact had shot an electric current through Tony and he jumped, the spell broken, letting Steve’s arm go in an instant and drawing back, something akin to panic rising from deep within.

Steve had jumped away as well, an emotion flickering over his face and eyes too fast for Tony to process after seeing the expression on Tony’s face. He’d schooled his expression to something placid and had smiled, saying that Tony should get more sleep, and then, he’d been gone. 

After he’d left, a mere ten minutes later, Tony had suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion unlike any other that he’d felt, and so, he’d slept, sprawled over the couch, though the last flitting thoughts in his mind had been of how close Steve had been and how warm and electrifying his touch had been. He’d awoken to his headache gone, reinvigorated and more inspired than he had been in a while. 

_The god of medicine and healing._

More memories arise.

He remembers when they had fought together in the Battle of New York and every other battle that they’d faced, fighting against challenge after challenge, and Steve? Steve had moved with a grace and ferocity that Tony had never seen before, sweeping through enemies without pause, his shield creating magnificent arcs that felled their opponent left and right, always returning. He fought seamlessly and without rest. 

In battle, it had been so easy to read Steve, and when the Captain approached him, fire blazing bright in his blue eyes, Tony had known exactly what to do each time. No words had to be exchanged and they moved on, their actions like a deadly dance that had been choreographed beforehand perfectly. 

_The god of plague and pestilence._

Tony breaks away from his thoughts only when his leg is nudged, causing him to jump in surprise, his eyes tearing away from Steve before he comes face to face with a red-headed assassin. 

Natasha.

He lets out a cough and the woman rolls her eyes, sitting down across from him. How long has he been staring at Steve? He’s lost track of time. Damn. He swallows and slumps down a bit into his chair as Natasha fixes her piercing gaze on him. Tony feels her slowly picking away at his very being as if she can see right through him and read his thoughts. He looks away from her wordlessly to rid himself of the feeling of his skin prickling, but looking away doesn’t do much for him. It still remains.

Steve is still oblivious, or so it seems from the brief glance Tony gave before looking away. He’s pounding away at the punching bag. Natasha’s sharp eyes catch it. There’s a long, heavy silence, and then she sighs. She speaks first.

“This isn’t healthy, Tony.”

Tony’s first instinct rises. He retorts back. “What is?”

She fixes him with her pointed gaze once more, but this time, Tony doesn’t back down, meeting her eyes defiantly. She seems to cut through his feint in less than a second, speaking slowly.

“You know what I mean, Tony,” she says carefully, then she taps the side of her mouth.

His hands immediately snap up, alarm ringing in his head, was he drooling-? When his hand touches nothing, he notices the small smile on her lips. He scowls hard enough to scare the fur off a cat, but Natasha only takes it in stride and brushes it aside. 

She seems… sad? Tony doesn’t know why. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony says.

After a moment, she raises a brow. It’s all Tony can do to keep from saying more to defend his honor, lips pressing into a thin line. They lock eyes again. Tony wavers. He looks away.

“It’s- It’s not like that,” he mumbles, and Natasha’s gaze softens. He can feel the prickling lessening, that’s the only way that he knows that it has. He takes a deep breath and looks up again, meeting her eyes. A silent conversation ensues.

It really isn’t like that. Tony appreciates Steve, he’s an amazing friend and they’re just close. Yes, sure, Steve is… He’s beautiful, there isn’t any other word to describe him. Inside and out. He’s kind, generous, humorous, and caring. He has an edge that no one expects. He’s a lot more sarcastic and deadpan than he lets on in public. He’s not—He’s not perfect, no one is, Tony knows this. 

Steve’s stubborn, stubborn enough to go toe to toe with Tony himself. He’s strong, so very strong, but sometimes—sometimes during sleepless nights when Steve sits silently in the kitchen, staring with a scarily blank expression at the countertop, Tony slips down to the kitchen. Tony’s only going down for himself. 

He needs chamomile tea, even if he despises the taste of it. It’s only convenient that he knows Steve likes his chamomile tea with a bit of honey. It’s only a coincidence when he can’t sleep and JARVIS informs him that Steve has been in the kitchen for 30 minutes, still as stone.

No, it doesn’t make his heart ache with an indecipherable emotion when one day Tony meanders into the kitchen with no purpose after starting awake for the third time that night and pacing for quite a bit. He finds Steve already there with a cup of chamomile tea and honey, another cup of black tea with a splash of milk and three cubes of sugar waiting for Tony across from him.

Damn JARVIS. He must’ve told Steve when he’d asked why Tony always grimaced sipping chamomile tea.

Tony purposefully searches out things that he thinks will make Steve laugh or smile, finding Steve little snippets of the past after hearing him murmur a soft complaint that he wishes he had an older radio. Tony finds an old radio and repurposes it to function as it would have back in the old days but much better, and it finds its way quietly settled next to the bedside table of Steve’s room. It doesn’t mean anything romantically, they’re friends and it’s only natural that Tony wants Steve happy. Steve deserves it more than anyone, and he always looks best when he's smiling. It makes Tony feel accomplished every time he sees the man laugh, and it's especially worth it when Steve thanks him later, practically beaming with joy and radiating contentment.

Occasionally, he finds films that Steve’s missed and watches them with him when they both have time. He’s just helping him catch up, and it doesn’t mean that Tony has feelings for Steve or anything; he's bored and restless, and for once, he doesn't want to hole up in the lab and work on anything. And yes, so maybe his heart skips a beat when Steve laughs softly every time Tony shows him some new Disney film and he ends up singing the part of Dr. Facilier from The Princess and the Frog. Maybe Tony needs to start laying off the coffee to get his heart to stop jumping at the smallest of things. Sure, Tony can't really focus on the movie because he's hyperaware of the fact their thighs are brushing together and he can feel Steve's warmth even through the fabric of their clothes. It's not his fault that Steve runs like a furnace and Tony keeps getting distracted from the heat.

It’s definitely not anything like that when he makes random Disney references from the movies they’ve watched that Steve immediately gets at the breakfast table, making him grin or chuckle while the others look at them like they’re insane. That’s okay. He doesn’t mind being a little insane if it makes Steve smile.

It doesn’t mean anything when Tony comes to the surface from the lab and finds Steve spread over the couch, eyes shut and serene, and he’s unable to stop from smiling before he searches out a soft blanket and returns with it to cover Steve before going back to what his initial task. It doesn’t mean anything like that when he sees Steve after an especially hard battle that pushes him further into a slump that Tony has come to recognize to be the overwhelming realization that things have changed so much and that the years have moved on without him, and it causes a tightness in Tony’s chest that he just can’t seem to relieve. 

It doesn’t mean anything like that when he goes up to the top floor where he just knows Steve is, drawing or just sitting, hidden away in a corner. Tony usually has a couple of sandwiches and water, because he knows that Steve has come directly to the workshop without eating or cleaning. After all that activity, Steve’s bound to be hungry and thirsty. 

He cares for Steve. They’re close, Steve is important to him and just because Tony feels his heart cave in on itself every time Steve looks up with his glassy blue eyes, that doesn’t mean that Tony has emotions he’s not facing because he doesn’t know how Steve will react. Still, Tony stays, sitting next to him without a word. Sometimes, they talk. They talk about anything and everything. Sometimes, Steve tells him what’s bothering him, other times, he doesn’t. Tony doesn’t push, but he nudges and coaxes when he feels he needs to. After a while, Steve leans in to brush their shoulders together, and when he cracks a feeble joke about how this has become a usual occurrence, Tony knows that he’s going to be okay. Other times, Tony leaves the plate of food and water and leaves him be because Steve doesn’t look up when he comes in, and that means he just needs some peace before he bounces back.

It doesn’t mean anything like that when at charity galas or parties, Tony has to come and rescue him from whatever fox decides to attempt to seduce him. It’s a bit funny to watch, but something strange in him twinges every time he sees someone by Steve’s side, arm hooked with his. He doesn’t take strange relish in the way that Steve often frantically looks around, polite as he is, in an attempt to look for Tony so he has an excuse to politely decline whoever is vying for his attention. 

He attempts subtlety, but Tony knows he’s looking for him because the instant their eyes meet, Steve’s shoulders slump slightly in relief, and by then, Tony is chuckling and inserting himself smoothly into the conversation, defusing it and stealing Steve away with all kinds of excuses. The twinging in his chest dissipates only after a while when every time he turns or moves, Steve is always a foot or two behind him, moving when he moves, like magnets, for the last half of the event. Once Tony's finished mingling, he often draws back and stays close to Steve, bantering back and forth with him as he teases the good Captain about being as uncomfortable as he is with people wanting his attention. Steve just rolls his eyes and bumps his shoulder against Tony's in a playful gesture, and Tony can't help but wink and flirt because Steve looks amazing in his suit—not that Tony's been thinking about that, in fact, he's been pointedly _not_ thinking about that—and Steve chuckles, teasingly flirting back. Still, Tony knows. It's just banter. Tony flirts with all his friends and Steve's just humoring him.

It doesn’t mean anything like that when Steve comes down to the lab with a sketchbook in hand, and for some reason, joins Tony and sits on the couch sketching and drawing whatever comes to his mind. It’s a comfortable silence and Tony often just falls into the mechanics of whatever he’s working on, and sometimes, he switches playlists to songs that he knows that Steve enjoys. 

He doesn’t mind it, though it’s a bit annoying when the music becomes stuck in his head and repeats sometimes. It isn’t like that at all when Tony feels his heart give a pang when he looks up to see Steve dozing, and when he gets closer, he sees the subject of his drawing has been him. It doesn’t mean anything like that, so he just closes Steve’s sketchpad and adjusts him carefully into a more comfortable position before Tony returns to his work. He crams down the tingling he can feel spreading from his fingertips where they brushed against Steve as the genius adjusted him. It's not because of Steve, Tony's just jittery from the coffee and he's eager to return to his project.

It doesn’t mean anything like that when Tony comes down to the gym with Steve when he looks more worn down than usual and ends up going a couple of rounds with him, which usually ends with him flat on his back, slick with sweat, and panting while Steve has forgotten all about what was bugging him, grinning as he pins him down. 

He leans in close and tells Tony to concede, and Tony only gasps out a no before going completely limp and causing Steve some alarm, his guard down and grip loosening—and then Tony strikes. He suddenly throws his weight upwards and derails Steve, and even though he ends up getting pinned again, he holds his own wrestling and grappling for purchase with Steve for around two minutes and he’s damn proud of it. He tells him as much and Steve laughs as Tony sighs and concedes Steve's victory. 

It doesn’t mean anything like that when Tony’s heart seems to be pounding even faster than before when they’d been giving it their all to dethrone each other.

He’s just being a good friend. What anyone would do. He cares for Steve. That’s all. 

It doesn’t mean anything at all that his throat seems to convulse and something twists painfully in his chest as he claims silently to just be a good friend. His and Natasha's “conversation” only lasted a minute or so at most. However, it feels like it’s been hours, and Tony has to swallow to get rid of the rubbery feeling in his throat. 

Natasha just looks at him. She’s frowning. He just stares back at her. Why is she frowning? 

He suddenly feels like he’s on the brink of something, at the very edge, and with the slightest bit of a nudge, he’ll fall off and into a deep, deep abyss he knows that he’ll perhaps never drag himself out of. Something tightens in his chest even more as he continues to watch Natasha. Her gaze has gone from annoyed, confused, to understanding, and now, to something that looks suspiciously like pity. 

He blinks, and the pity is gone as if it had never been there. Instead, she looks a bit… Sad. She knows something he doesn’t know. Tony tenses. He’s teetering. He suddenly isn’t sure if he wants to know. Natasha looks away from him for the first time since she’s taken a seat across from him.

“Tony…”

His name sounds delicate on her tongue, suddenly. It feels as if he is on a very, very thin sheet of ice, already cracking and breaking, and the weight of his name is only causing it to break faster and faster. His fingers tighten, curling into his pants, holding his breath. He only has a moment to think helplessly that there is no going back from this before Natasha nudges him.


	2. The Ending: Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Major Character Death ahead. Proceed with caution.**

“He’s gone.”

Somewhere inside Tony, the sound of shattering glass is deafening.

He remembers everything. It floods him in a torrent, the pressure is so much. He feels like he’s drowning. Everything hurts.

Steve’s gone.

He’s dead.

A terrible ripping sound reaches his ears dully. 

He can’t seem to stop his vision from spinning or shaking. He wants to tell whoever is making those sounds to stop, to shut up. He thinks he closes his eyes. He doesn’t realize the sounds are coming from within his chest until he’s suddenly being lifted, and he hears his name being called repeatedly and frantically by Natasha. He can’t breathe. The acute pain that he feels tearing his soul apart doesn’t allow him to breathe, and his mind cruelly chants.

He’s never coming back.

“Tony!”

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes. He painstakingly wrenches them open, and it’s like there’s glass behind his eyelids. Everything is blurry. He can’t stop shaking. He thinks for a brief moment, maybe this is hell. Something hot slides down his cheeks and suddenly, his vision comes into focus. 

Natasha’s face is wildly concerned, and there’s pain in the twisted way her face contorts.

He drags in a ragged breath. A sob twists out of his throat. He should’ve been there. Steve hadn’t made it out of that mission. 

He should’ve been there. 

He whimpers. 

Natasha holds him tight. He doesn’t have to look back at the punching bag to know whether Steve is there or not. He’ll never be there again.

Yes, if there’s anything that Tony is, it’s destructive. He’s let himself fall in love with Apollo, and now, here they were.

The tale of Icarus suddenly floods his mind. Icarus had coveted and loved what he couldn’t have. He’d reached for the sun, the god, Apollo. He’d fallen, with the words “just once” escaping his lips.

Tony lets out a keening sound that sounds like the broken shell of something that had been a hysterical laugh. Natasha’s grip on him only tightens. Icarus. Apollo. It was ironic, how well it fit. Tony had been godless, but not faithless.

His faith had been Steve.

The god of prophecy had told him that he’d fall in love and it would end with him gone. The god of truth tells him now that Steve is gone.

He was. He is. Tony's faith is gone.

It hurts too badly. Tony lets himself sink into darkness.


	3. The Ending: Fluff

“You already know.”

Things fall apart around him. In a moment or two, everything just collapses. He falls through the ice. He is pushed off the cliff. He knows exactly what she’s talking about. Who is he kidding? Everything just… Slides into place. Tony is centered. He knows, he knows, and he’s always known. Natasha knows exactly when everything clicks, a small smile appearing on her lips.

He swallows.

Tony groans, letting himself drop, his face burying into his arm. Natasha gives a soft laugh and he knows that she’s laughing at him. “It’s not funny,” he murmurs thickly, his heart squeezing painfully but fluttering simultaneously. 

He’d been in denial long enough. He’d hoped to remain in that state, but damn. Natasha never let things go his way.

“It is.”

The smirk in her voice is obvious. He huffs. He turns his head to look at Steve who’s oblivious to his careening and desperate demise. 

He’s just tilting his head back, towel around his neck, gulping water down, and every nerve in Tony’s body seems to tighten.

Apollo, the god of prophecy and truth.

The god of prophecy had told him that he’d fall in love since the moment that he’d seen Steve smile. The god of truth tells him now that he is in love every time his heart dances when he even sees a glimpse of him. 

He sighs. He’s too old for this.

Yes, Tony is as destructive as he gets, letting himself fall in love with Steve.

The tale of Icarus plays in his mind as he watches Steve. Just then, Steve turns his head to meet his eyes, smiling brightly and gives him a little wave, and suddenly, Tony can’t breathe. It’s only when Steve turns to nod to Natasha that he drags in a shaky breath.

Well, he thinks, I’ll happily be Icarus for this Apollo.

Tony is godless, but he is not faithless.

Of course, later, he finds out, he is not Icarus who plummets to earth with the words "just once" on his lips. Later, he finds out that they can craft their own take of Apollo and Icarus when Steve asks him to go for dinner and kisses him sweetly. Tony realizes that he can keep him.


End file.
